


Deathbed

by deirdre_aithne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Deathfic, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-27
Updated: 2012-02-27
Packaged: 2017-11-08 05:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/439716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deirdre_aithne/pseuds/deirdre_aithne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron and Hermione's last conversation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deathbed

"'Mione?" Ron asked quietly as he clasped Hermione's hand in his. His wife turned her head towards him, cracking her eyes open. A feeble smile pulled up the corners of her lips, and he felt her hand flex in his as though she tried to give it a squeeze.   
  
"Where's Rosie?" Hermione's voice was rough, and her face scrunched, as if speaking pained her.   
  
Ron scooted his chair closer to the bed, leaning in towards Hermione. He brought his free hand up to brush a curl back from her forehead. "I left her with Mum for a while. I knew you wouldn't want her to see you like this..." Hermione's head made a small movement that resembled a nod.   
  
"Your mum spoils her."   
  
"She needs to be spoiled right now." There was no argument in his tone, only a simple statement, and Hermione's faint smile showed she agreed. "You know we could still have a portrait made, love. It isn't too late-"   
  
"No," Hermione interrupted sharply. She closed her eyes with a pained expression and Ron plucked up the glass of water beside her bed and pressed it to her lips. After she took a long sip, he replaced the glass, squeezing her hand.   
  
"I know you want me to have one, Ron, but I don't like them... I don't want her growing up with a shadow of me like that."   
  
"It's something she could talk to when she needs you," Ron challenged. His tone was edging on desperation, and Hermione gave him a knowing look.   
  
"Her, or  _you_ ?" she asked. When Ron looked away to blink back a wave of tears, Hermione lifted her other hand to reach for him. "Come here..."   
  
"I don't think I'm supposed to-"   
  
"I don't care."   
  
Despite everything, Ron laughed. It was a short huff, full of the sad humour he felt as he perched himself on the edge of the hospital bed. "I've been a bad influence on you," he murmured, watching Hermione shuffle herself far enough to one side for him to lie beside her. Ron kept her hand clasped in his, stroking his thumb across her knuckles as he propped his head on his other hand.   
  
"If either of you needs to talk to me, then just talk," Hermione said, picking up their conversation. "Rosie doesn't need a mum made of paint and canvas. And you don't need a partner made of them, either."   
  
"Hermione-"   
  
"Don't, Ronald.  _Listen_  to me."   
  
He opened his mouth to protest, or change the direction of their conversation, but the determination in Hermione's eyes stopped him, and he fell silent.   
  
"You can't spend the rest of your life pining after a memory." She tried to squeeze his hand again, but the gesture was weak. "I don't want you to live like that. I love you, and _I know_  that you love me. But that doesn't mean you can't ever move on."   
  
"How can you want me to be with someone else?"   
  
Hermione's laugh was soft, closer to a rush of breath that accompanied her smile. "Silly boy," she murmured, leaning in to brush her lips against his. "I want you to be happy, Ron. If you find someone who makes you feel that way, then be with them." She settled her head back down on her pillow and looked up at him fondly. "No matter who it is, you have my blessing to move on when you're ready."   
  
"I don't think I'll ever be ready, 'Mione." Ron brought his hand up to caress Hermione's cheek, tracing the bone through her flesh with the back of his knuckles. His lip trembled for a moment and he pulled it between his teeth in hopes of stopping it. Hermione's eyes softened as she looked at him, and she turned her face into his hand.   
  
"I'm sorry..."   
  
" _Don't_ ," Ron choked out, turning his hand to cup Hermione's cheek with his palm. "Don't you dare apologise. This isn't your fault."   
  
"I know, but-"   
  
"Don't," Ron repeated. He closed his eyes as he leaned in to kiss Hermione's hair, letting out a ragged breath as he tipped his head down and rested his forehead against hers.   
  
"You'll get through this," Hermione whispered after a moment of silence passed between them. Ron choked back a sob and shook his head. "You  _will_ . You're strong, Ron. This isn't the end of everything."   
  
"I'm not ready for this, Hermione," Ron said through the wave of tears that overtook him. He pulled back to look at her, unable to clear the watery haze from his vision. She raised her hand to brush her thumb against his cheek, wiping at the tracks that wound their way down from his eyes. "I haven't had you long enough to lose you now."   
  
"Would it ever have been long enough?" Ron's expression crumpled further, and Hermione cuddled closer to his chest, tucking her head beneath his chin. "You always say I see the best in you before you can," she whispered, nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder. "Trust me, Ron. You can get through this, I know it."   
  
Ron buried his face in her hair, bringing his arm up to wrap around Hermione's shoulders when she went stiff beside him. "H-Hermione?" he rasped, starting to draw back when an alarm began to blare, filling the room with sound. Hermione's eyes were no longer able focussed when Ron looked down at her, and before he was able to try and speak to her again, two healers rushed into the room and grabbed his arm to pull him out of the bed. Hermione's mouth moved as though she was trying to say something, but no sound came from her lips.   
  
"Mr. Weasley, you need to step outside now," one of the healers said as she guided him towards the door. Ron struggled against her hold on his upper arm, looking desperately at Hermione in the bed.   
  
"Please, I can't-" Ron's plea was cut short as the alarm that had blared changed pitch. The healer who had stayed at Hermione's bedside straightened over her with drooped shoulders, and Ron crumpled to his knees in the opened doorway of the room. " _No..._ "   
  
The healer beside him crouched down and laid a hand on his shoulder, but Ron shrugged it off as he curled in on himself, sliding his hands into his hair. "She can't be gone," he whispered to himself. "She can't... I'm not ready..." As tears overtook him again, Ron squeezed his eyes closed as he sobbed Hermione's name.   
  
"Ron..." Harry's voice was quiet, and the arms that draped around Ron's shoulders then were strong and muscled. Without thinking, Ron turned himself into Harry and fisted his hands in his best friend's shirt. Harry didn't hesitate to close his arms around Ron, sliding one hand over the length of his spine in a soothing gesture while Ron trembled against his chest.   
  
"She's  _gone_ , Harry," Ron whispered after a long moment when he was able to find his voice again. The words came out rough, and gave way to a fresh wave of sobs that caused Ron to cling tighter to Harry.   
  
"I know, Ron," Harry murmured. He glanced once at the bed where Hermione lay; the healer had closed her eyes, and for all appearances now, she could have been sleeping. Swallowing back his own emotions, Harry continued to run his hand over Ron's back. "I know..."


End file.
